


Day One: Mind Control

by OBlossom



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Dehumanization, FebuWhump2021, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, IronDad and SpiderSon, Mind Control, brief mention of electrocution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBlossom/pseuds/OBlossom
Summary: "This screw up was too big, felt irreparable. He should have let the kid keep the suit. He should have been in contact with the kid from the beginning.  He should have followed up with the FBI about that damned Toomes guy. And maybe... just maybe he should have reined in his asshole-like tendency when it came to one Thaddeus Ross, U.S. Secretary of State and certifiable psychopath."
Relationships: Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark and his friends
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138958
Comments: 14
Kudos: 106
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Day One: Mind Control

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, Everyone! 
> 
> This is your standard "This is my first time sharing, please be gentle" note. 
> 
> So, yeah... that.
> 
> -Colleen xo

Day 1: mind control

They say that hindsight is 20/20.

Tony thought hindsight could suck balls, drink poison, and die.

“Tony, come on. You have to come and eat something... anything. It’s been four days—which is too much, even for you.”

Tony spun in his chair to face away from her, ignoring her pleas—

And leaving Pepper to pull out the big guns, “Do you think you’re doing Peter any favors; you being too sleep deprived and malnourished to be of any help to anyone when we do find him?” 

Tony hated it when she used that voice, that horribly logical one that neither man nor board member could argue against. He stood up, too quickly, and grabbed the table’s edge to steady. “You’re right,” he croaked. How long had it been since he’d spoken? “Maybe a nap will inspire me.” He tried to smile at her, show her that he was okay, even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

This screw up was too big, felt irreparable. He should have let the kid keep the suit. He should have been in contact with the kid from the beginning. He should have followed up with the FBI about that damned Toomes guy. And maybe... just maybe he should have reined in his asshole-like tendency when it came to one Thaddeus Ross, U.S. Secretary of State and certifiable psychopath. 

All of the Avengers knew his history and his obsession, especially with Bruce. They shouldn’t have been lulled into complacency. Ross had wanted enhanced soldiers—and now he had one.” Peter has to be so scared... and hungry, and what if he hasn’t healed yet. What if...”

“Tony?” Pepper interrupted his thoughts before he could really spiral. “Come on. I’ll make you a smoothie and then you can crash on the couch for a bit,” she encouraged, holding her hand out for him to take. “That way you’re in the thick of it if FRIDAY or Rhodey come up with anything.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” His smile felt bigger this time, unsure who he was trying to convince. He grabbed her offering and they headed toward the elevator, only to stop in his tracks and rush out a desperate, “FRIDAY?”

“Tony,” Pepper whispered, “You don’t have to ask, she’ll...”

Tony interrupted her, “Just hang on, please? I just have to check one more thing!“ Eyes flew to the ceiling. “Any luck with Ross’s government or personal cell phones? Any pings?”

FRIDAY responded immediately, “No, Boss. Both cell phones have been untraceable since approximately 20 minutes after your plane crashed at Coney Island. I have expanded the parameters of the search to include any known personal assistants and his daughter, Betty Ross as well. Is there anyone else I can include that I have not anticipated?” 

“No one that I can think of,” he answered. “Good job, Baby Girl. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, Boss. I will notify you of any changes in the search.”

There was nothing else he could do in that moment. Nothing at all. 

Pepper squeezed his hand, “We’ll get him back, Tony. If anyone can, it’s you.”

And Tony hoped she was right.

* * * * * *

Four Days ago:

Thaddeus Ross was not a man to be trifled with. He’d worked hard in his decades long military career to establish himself as a man of morals, of action, and worthy of the respect and admiration of his peers. He practically bled red, white, and blue, damn it. 

He also knew better than those talking heads in Washington, D.C. when it came to those bloody mutants and exactly how they should be used in a time of war—(and if wormholes in the sky and glowing rocks didn’t count as that, then they were fools.) which was why the Sokovia Accords needed to be signed now. 

His only benefit was that Tony Stark was playing nice... sort of. Yes, Stark wanted accountability. God knew he had enough blood on his hands to warrant it. The problem was that Stark also wanted his band of freaks back in the fold, and after the whole Winter Soldier debacle, Ross was going to make him work for every damned concession—if Stark would only answer his damned phone.

Yes, he knew that Stark was treating this like a joke but that night, on Coney Island, the joke was on him. 

Ross had never been sure of how involved Stark was with the Accords versus the band of lawyers Ross was forced to work with day in and day out, and so Ross had submitted a caveat regarding notification to the U.N. Accords Committee of the transportation of any and all Avengers related gear and related inventory—and the necessity of a U.N. sanctioned representative to confirm safe delivery. If he was the official channel, then so be it.

And Stark never mentioned it. 

Which was why, on that early October weekend, he had been stationed at the Avengers compound, waiting. Ross knew that there was no one important waiting for delivery, and it would be a perfect opportunity to pocket some Stark tech for his own personal agenda. 

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. “Ross,” he answered.

He listened to the excited explanation on the other end of the phone. Something had happened and the plane with all of Stark’s toys was currently plummeting toward Coney Island. 

And then the correction: It had crashed at Coney Island.

Ross was already buckling into the helicopter he’d commandeered for the occasion and was in the air before instructing his man on the ground to stand by, but to observe and inform Ross of any changes in the situation.

And, oh, how it had changed.

“Mr. Secretary, sir, it appears that Spider-Man and an unidentified subject have emerged from the crash and are ‘battling’ over the inventory.”

“What?” 

“Yessir, they are actively engaged, though it appears that Spider-Man is wounded and will require medical assistance if things continue as such.”  
Ross had to know. He had to know if Stark had violated the essence of the Accords by using a mutant to guard his plane. Tony Stark would be on the Raft faster than you could say, “I was Iron Man.”

He dialed, waited for the call to connect, and then fumed. “Hi, you’ve reached me. I’d rather have a colonoscopy than talk to you, so leave a message at the beep and I’ll call you back... oh, wait. There is no beep.” And, once again, Tony Stark hung up on U.S. Secretary Thaddeus Ross.

Ross hated that man, almost as much as he’d hated Howard Stark, and what he wouldn’t do to make that man suffer.

Stark needed to be brought down a peg.

His helicopter landed, Ross disembarked immediately and approached his aid. “What do you know, Anderson?” he barked.

Anderson pointed to the top of the rollercoaster. “Spider-Man perched on the top of the Cyclone a few minutes ago and hasn’t moved, Sir. Like I said in my earlier report, I think he may be injured. Should we call Mr. Stark, Sir? It’s my understanding that they are working together.”

“I’m afraid Stark is unavailable, so we’ll be dealing with this one in house,” he looked to Anderson and grinned, then made a performance of turning off his cell phone. “You’ll need to call the team. I think it’s time to go and collect us a bug.”

* * * * * *

While Ross had been on-site exclusively since the acquisition of Subject 17-A, it was the first time he’d been able to pull himself away from the paperwork that comes with trying to build a proper enhanced militia. There was also the little matter of making sure Tony Stark and his minions couldn’t track him down now that he was finally getting somewhere. It was tedious, but with the blood work and tissue samples collected that first day, progress was being made—slowly.

It hadn’t been long for his people to approach him on the first day of the subject’s actual conditioning regiment. Standard drug protocols were proving to be ineffective due to the subject’s enhanced metabolism. LSD, cocaine, and heroin were all burning through too quickly. The altered state they were looking to achieve in order to gain a foothold was seemingly impossible; and so they moved onto less palatable but still valid methods.

And so the beatings had begun with intermittent shock treatments to reinforce and correct behaviours.

That didn’t mean that the chemical option had been taken off of the table—not at all. His scientists were geniuses, simply blacklisted for having the testicular fortitude to do whatever they deemed necessary to create a perfect weapon for the safety of the American people! Another area of the compound was dedicated to running analysis after analysis on different drug combinations to achieve desired effect. It wouldn’t be long before they were back on track with a full gambit of toys to play with. 

He keyed entry into the observation room. It was empty save for recording equipment on this side of the one-way mirror, an intercom, and the hardwired control for the subject’s ‘training sessions,’ which was perfect. Ross wanted to observe without distraction.

A weak, “Hello?” called out from the other side of the glass. “Who’s there?”

Ross stepped up to the glass and smiled. He looked so innocent... so frightened there, bare save for a surgical gown and strapped to the vibranium table that Ulysses Klaue had been kind enough to provide for a very reasonable price.

“I can hear someone new. Please? Can you help me?” he called out.

Ross was irritated at the request for help (but still impressed with the enhanced hearing). His conditioning, however, should have been further along for three days of work. He pushed the button on the wall, counted to ten, and then released, all the while watching the subject strain against his restraints. 

Electricity was such an effective tool.

“Subject 17-A. Please refrain from any attempt at communication.” 

The subject looked confused for a second, like he was trying to figure something out, and then he realized, “Secretary Ross?”

It was out before it could stop itself, it seemed, and Ross delighted in the twenty count this time. Its screams were a thing of beauty. “Subject 17-A. Please refrain from any attempts at communication.” 

Subject 17-A sniffed as tears poured down its cheeks.

Twenty-five seconds and then Ross waited. 

Subject 17-A was silent after that, save for the sound of its involuntary grunts and spasming limbs striking at the table... and Ross would allow that.

* * * * * *  
They’d hit the one week mark.

Tony was devastated. 

Any hopes of tracking Ross or any accomplices through his government staff had been an absolute failure. Those assigned to work the office of the United States Secretary of State were all present, accounted for, and cleared of any involvement with this catastrophe. 

Thaddeus Ross had gone rogue and had been planning it for a while.

Tony pulled at his hair. “What the fuck are we missing?!” he yelled. “It’s been a week!”

Rhodey, Vision, and Bruce said nothing. 

Tony started listing off everything he could think of. “We’ve checked the dark web. Ross isn’t selling him. He isn’t selling his DNA. There hasn’t been any chatter on any of the black op sites. What the hell is he doing?”

Bruce finally spoke up, “I don’t know, but I’m not sure he knows either. It’s not like he’d planned to nab the kid.”

And that was all it took. Tony grabbed Bruce by the cheeks and planted a big, wet kiss on his forehead. “Bruce, you genius! They weren’t ready for him! And he was hurt! Oh, fuck, he was hurt, Bruce. We’ll have to get the med bay ready for him in case things need fixing, ‘cuz Ross is a sadist if ever there was one and a movie night with—“ 

“Tony!” Rhodey yelled out, trying to distract Tony from his rant. “What are you talking about?”

“Guys, Ross wasn’t ready for him and couldn’t have been what with his wacked out DNA! That means we track any pharmaceutical orders, international, too! We’re looking for any orders of chemicals or compounds used by or ever researched by you and Cho for use on Steve! Hell, anything that has similar properties or off book uses that could potentially affect Peter, too! You got that FRIDAY?” He didn’t stop for her response. “They could—“

“Search complete, Boss. I’ve found something.”

Tony was feeling hope for the first time in forever. “Lay it on me, Baby Girl.”

“An order for multiple drugs researched by Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho for use in anaesthesia in the event that Captain Rogers needed surgery has been placed by a Dr. Gerald Rickman of Norfolk, Virginia. The delivery is tentatively set for two hours from now at a warehouse in an industrial park to the south of Allentown, Pennsylvania, though actual delivery time may change depending on traffic and route selection.” FRIDAY intoned.

Tony was suiting up before FRIDAY had made it through the standard delivery disclaimer. “Send the delivery point to the suits and quinjet, FRI,” he directed. “Bruce, Vision, fly out and meet us there. We’ll need to be ready for medical evac. Rhodey,” he stopped in his tracks and looked him directly in the eye. “Get the kid out at all cost, and then we burn’em to the ground. Got it?”

Rhodey nodded in agreement. “I got it, brother. Let’s go get your kid back.”

“And one more thing,” he announced as he rocketed into the air, “Ross is mine.”

* * * * * *

His rage could be heard over the blare of the sirens blaring overhead. “What have you done?!” He grabbed Dr. Rickman by the shoulders and shook him. “All of the security, the firewalls, the backdoors, and you order off of your phone while you’re taking a shit?!”

The man cowered in fear. “B-b-but I thought—“ 

“If you’d thought, we wouldn’t be in this mess! Do you know what that alarm means? It means a perimeter breach, because of you! The Avengers are here because of you! My life’s work, over! Because of you!” Ross released the man from his grip with a shove. With a calm contrary to what he was feeling, he pulled out his Beretta M9. “This is all because of you.” 

The shot could be heard over the sound of the siren, but the sound of Dr. Rickman’s body hitting the ground wasn’t.

It was over.

The wall to the left of him blasted open, debris scattering all over the floor—scattering all over Dr. Rickman. 

Iron Man walked through the opening, arm raised and repulsor charged and pointed directly at Ross, still clutching his smoking gun. Iron Man looked from Ross to the body on the floor, and then back to Ross.

Neither man spoke for a moment, and then Ross broke the silence, “Aren’t you going to ask why I did it?”

“No.”

“Are you going to ask where he is?”

“No.”

“The great Tony Stark, silent after all this time? I never thought I’d live to see the day--”

And with that, Tony smirked. “You took the kid. Who said you get to live?”

Ross grinned, “You mean Subject 17-A?”

The repulsor fired before even Tony registered that he’d done it—and he was okay with it. He looked down at the now smoking corpse that had been the bane of his existence and gave it a kick. “His name is Peter Parker, asshole. He’s Spider-Man.”

* * * * * *

In the end, it had been Vision who’d found him. Dematerializing to float through walls cut out a lot of wasted time. 

The flood of relief was evident in the tone of everyone’s reply. 

Tony’s, “I’m on my way, Vis. Keep my Spider-baby safe.”

Rhodey’s, “Awesome. Let me clean up some loose ends and I’ll meet up with y’all.”

But then Bruce, “Um, guys? I found something.”

Tony heard the seriousness in Bruce’s voice. “Vis, I’m a minute from your location, get ready to join up with Bruce and get everything you can.” Tony looked at the cement walls as he passed, saw remnants of the others that may have come before Peter. “And do it quick. We’ll analyze it later, unless it’s an immediate need. Bruce?”

“We’re good, I think. I’m gonna grab some samples and let Vision deal with the rest. This place gives me the heebie jeebies.”

Tony looked at what may have been blood stained concrete. “Me, too, bud. I think we may have to go ‘scorched earth’ on this place.”

Rhodey piped up then, “Agreed. I think this place has seen some dark shit.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Tony entered the room where Vision stood guard over Peter’s prone form. “Get it fast so we can get gone, okay, Vis?”

Vision nodded and disappeared, leaving Tony alone with Peter.

Tony huffed a sigh of relief and approached the table where Peter lay, thankfully no longer confined. He smiled down at the boy who seemed determined to stare only at one fixed point on the ceiling. 

“See anything interesting up there?” Tony asked, looking to see what had captured his interest.

Peter clamped his mouth shut.

Tony saw it, thought he understood. “Pete? Hey. I’m really sorry about all of the things that happened before, and um, about the suit. I was so wrong and I realize that now.”

Peter remained silent.

Tony was confused, “Pete? Are you okay?” he reached out, brushed back some of Peter’s curls from his forehead.

A silent tear ran down his cheek.

“Pete?”

Bruce appeared in the door, clutching a file and a satchel of more. “I think I understand what happened here... or at least what they tried to make happen...” Bruce trailed off.

Tony waited for an explanation.

“Did you ever hear about the MK Ultra program out of the 60s, 70s, and 80s?”

Tony thought for a second, then remembered, “Do you mean that shady CIA mind control program that was supposed to be cancelled but wasn’t really and everyone just pretends that it was?”

Bruce gulped, loosened the collar of shirt, nodded.

Tony looked down at Peter again. “Did they try to do that with you?” He brushed back the curls again, more gently than before.

No response.

“Tony, he may think you’re a test.” Bruce whispered as he glanced down at the notes in front of him.

Tony’s heart sank. Had he taken too long? He smiled sadly at the boy, “I know what we can do. We can head back to the city and, after Dr. Cho—who’s a really great doctor, by the way—after she checks you out, we can relax and watch a really old movie, like Star Wars or something.” He tried to remember anything. “That was the one you liked, right? Inspired some pretty epic moves during that whole airport thing, huh?”

Peter blinked.

“Speaking of airports, I sort of owe you for saving my plane, Underoos. That would have ended sooo bad if you hadn’t pulled that crazy stunt. I mean crashing a plane? That’s more my style, but I’ll let you have this one, square deal?”

Peter turned his head toward the voice, “Mm—“ 

Tony wrinkled his nose at that, “Kid, if you’re gonna call me Mr. Stark, we need to have a conversation. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but then you managed to get kidnapped and all.”

Peter huffed out the quietest of laughs.

“And there you are, Spider-baby.” Tony whispered sweetly. “Ready to go home?”

Rhodey and Vision arrived in the doorway. “Tony? Why don’t you guys go on ahead. I’m gonna take care of some stuff here, alright?”

Tony and Rhodey shared a look, and Tony understood. 

“Sounds good, Platypus.” Tony pulled Peter into his arms bridal style. “We are gonna fly first class, though, if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just gonna light’er up and be right behind you.” He looked at the boy in Tony’s arms. “I was sure I heard something about a movie night as I came in and I am not missing that. Tones does the best snacks.” 

Peter curled up a little more.

Tony took the cue and tightened the hold. “Alright, then, Spider-Man, your chariot awaits. Vision? Bruce? Let’s go.”

* * * * * *

It was hours later, when Peter was sleeping soundly in the medbay, that Tony had a chance to look at the file. 

And it was only moments after he finished that he swore he’d never let anyone hurt Peter again.

**Author's Note:**

> It may not be much, but it's mine-- and I offer this and whatever else I can manage as a thank you to all of the fan fiction writers that got me through some really difficult times, and in solidarity with all of those fan fiction readers that understand what I mean. <3


End file.
